Hmm, a locked door? Perhaps it's the manager's office? If so, then I really have some choice words for him!
Uh, hello? Is there anyone here? More to the point, is there anyone in here with at least a BBA?
Eww! You'd think the local manager at least could manage to afford a cleaner! What a mess!
Stashing the company's products away for personal use is really not very ethical either. I'm really starting to doubt this place.
On the other hand, since there is no one here, I suppose they won't mind if I'll help myself to some Diazepams. They'll understand when I tell them how their employees treated me.
Huh? I never noticed that before? I wonder what it is?
Oh! There's someone living in there! Hello there! Would you happen know where I could find this store's...
...uh, manager?
Or maybe you actually are the manager here? Yes? No? Maybe?
Why are you staring me?
No! Stay away! I'm not here for job interview!!!
Whew! He or she or whatever heard something and forgot about me. That's almost reassuring. The less assuring aspect of this situation is the logic dictating that where there is someone hearing something...
There is something...or someone...making a noise.
Oh dear! Oh dear oh dear! The angry clerks called the security! It's like my prom night, except I'm not drunk at all and back home all I got was stern lecturing from the security officers and then daddy. I...I may have to...I never thought about it, but I may have to...
OK, Laura-Anne...close your eyes...you can do this...you can...you can...
While my visionary sensors are at the moment somewhat voluntarily disabled, my aural senses register a scream from the approximate direction and distance of the security officer who was just about to charge the manager and then probably beat the living light out of me. This leads me to the conclusion that the bolt of of heated air must have contacted with the target's cranial area, causing, if the old signs are to be believed, sudden dislodging of the said, rather vital piece of organs from the general body mass of the object of targeting. Which most likely means I just became a murderer.
Uh, so uh, yippi ki yay clinical Oedipus Complex patients!
WHO AM I KIDDING?! LEGS, DO YOUR STUFF!!!